


In the Ring

by CypressKiss



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU Hux/Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Smutt, Troubled pasts, a lot of emotions, shower scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CypressKiss/pseuds/CypressKiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendol Hux is an amateur Muay Thai fighter, using this to escape from the droll of his suit and tie life. He's one of the least liked fighters at the gym for his cold attitude and overwhelming sense of pride. However, another notoriously disliked fighter, Ben Solo, has no problem antagonizing him. Never stepping up to one another in the ring, a tension builds between them. Pent up rage leads into directions neither of them anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shoulder Check

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this AU sounds stupid as fuck, I get that. Bare with me here, I am testing some new waters. Hopefully you guys enjoy this either way! I know it has been fun writing it! Leave comments or critiques in the comments below, if you'd like. I love reading what you guys have to think. And as always, thank you for taking the time to read!

Brendol Hux loves the way his fists feel against another person’s face. He loves the sharp breaths of each tight movement. The lunging forward, the spinning kicks, an elbow to the jaw. At the office, he is dead. A man existing in third person, watching his suited self travel along in autopilot. And yet somehow, he is advanced higher and higher in First Order Inc. No matter the paycheck amount, the status, the respect, nothing compares to the exhilaration of the Muay Thai class he joined two years ago. 

“Hux, let the man breathe.” Sensei Snoke waves him to stop. The old man suffered a stroke years ago, but trains the best of fighters year after year.

Hux breathes through his nose, out his mouth, seeing the blood drip from his opponent’s lips. He doesn’t feel an inkling of concern as he crawls out of the ring. Grabbing a towel he wipes sweat from his brow, heading towards the punching bag. The snide remarks from his fellow fighters don’t phase him. They see him as someone who has no honor. And its true, he could care less about the others at this gym. He only wants his fix. 

This is why he is the second most hated member.

“Ben, get in there with Phasma.” Snoke calls out to the towering, stone built man. 

Ben doesn’t look at Hux as he shoulder checks him. Hux knew it was coming and made sure to give it to him just as hard. He hears a snort of wry, which motivates Hux to make a sharp one-eighty and block the pretty boy’s way. His violent stance gave enough threat to make any other person wary. Ben looked down at him, stepping forward in the means of a challenge. 

Hux isn’t a short guy, he’s six feet and some change, but not as tall as the man before him. A man who shouldn’t even be allowed to fight at the gym, considering his mean streak, criminal record, and anger issues. He’s a bit of a celebrity, being the son of Senator Organa. His tabloid hits include assault at bars and breaking an officer’s nose. Each crime punished with a slap on the wrist and a wagging of the finger. 

“Ben, get in the ring!” Snoke raises his voice. The last thing he wants is his two best and most unstable fighters at each other’s throats. 

Ben Solo slips pass Hux, not giving him a second look. Hux will punch a hole through that punching bag. Blood is already rushing to his pale face. 

*****

The worst is how they are always the last two in the gym. Forced to be in awkward company, listening to the other grunt and breathe as they push their bodies to exceed limits. The gym is closed to others, luckily Snoke trusts them enough to give them both a key. He knows they would never destroy this place they hold as a sanctuary. He also imagines if one of them gets out of line, the other would handle it. 

In the locker room Ben and Hux meet in silence. Hux has a towel around his waist, water dripping from his red hair. He listens to the running shower where Ben rinses his body from the thick coat of sweat. Hux, towel still around his waist, slips on his boxer briefs. The towel is tossed onto the bench as he dresses himself in his khakis and blue polo shirt. He fastens his leather belt and hears a scoff from the showers. 

“Something funny?” Hux calls out, refusing to look in Ben’s direction. 

“You look like a douche.” Ben responds. 

“Ah yes, and your band shirts and ripped jeans make you so cool.” Hux rolls his eyes, picking up his heavy towel. 

Ben has nothing to say as he continues to take in the hot water. Hux strides to the towel rack, too close to the showers for his liking. Too close to Ben. His eyes, embarrassingly wanders. 

Ben runs his large hands through his black hair. His chin is tilted up towards the shower head, eyes close. Water washes down his body like the curious fingers of a new lover. A glimmer on his flesh in the florescent lighting of the shower area, outlines each ripple of his muscles. His head falls, hands tracing down his neck, falling to his collar bones then lower. Hux hates himself for turning red in the face. But he enjoys the way Ben’s fingers spread about his torso, as if he knows Hux is watching and he wants him to be bothered. 

Hux hangs his towel, speeding towards his locker to grab his wallet and car keys. The sound of the shower ends abruptly. 

*****

In his luxury loft on the upside of Los Angeles, Hux sits on the edge of his king sized bed. He’s in his boxer briefs and rubbing the back of his neck as he stares out the large windows of his bedroom. Los Angeles looks romantic during the night. He gazes onto the city lights, thinking of all the life still going on. In the emptiness of his silent room, he is haunted by his loneliness. More so, he is frustrated by how he cannot stop replaying the image of Ben in that shower. How his mind plays it in slow motion, how he bites at his lips at the thought of it, wishing his eyes fell just a little bit lower. He imagines his hands were the-

“No, no, god damn it!” Hux hollers, stopping his thoughts in their tracks. He lunges towards the head of his bed, wrestling his way under the silk sheets and comforter. 

In the quiet, darkest hour, he is awake. Hating himself for having yet another night interrupted by the thought of the biggest asshole he’s ever come across. Hating himself for how his hand slips under the elastic band around his hips.


	2. Daisies in Her Hair

The local competitions never fail to surprise Hux when the camera crews roll in. Hux’s gym are going against multiple fight clubs around the area, all with the hopes of taking down the top fighters of Sensei Snoke. Hux tries his best not to enjoy the lights, the glamor, the sense of being revered. It’s hard for him not to smirk to himself when he walks down the short trail between the screaming fans. All hoping to see blood, to see fighters rip each other to shreds. Yet, the only two fights he appreciated are the ones with Phasma and of course Ben. 

“Uh-oh, we have a mix up!” An announcer claims to the lot. 

A camera is focusing in on Snoke and another man dressed in a cheap black suit. The man is yelling pointing at the ring where Phasma stood shiftlessly. The towering blonde woman has her arms crossed around her chest, glaring at no one in particular. Snoke has a lop sided smile, explaining something to the man in the suit, out of earshot of the camera’s microphones. The man throws up his arms then shouts for the match to go on. 

“Looks like we have a female competitor among the big dogs, ladies and gentleman!” The announcer’s ignorance cracks a grin on Hux’s face. He knows exactly who will win this match.

“I tell you what, sweetheart, I’ll buy you a drink afterwards. No hard feelings.” The arrogant new comer smacks his lips at the unwavering woman. Her eyes narrow. 

The other fighters from the different gyms, hold their breaths when they hear the death wish remark. Some of these fighters lost months of training from the severe injuries Phasma had handed out generously during these competitions. The new owner, Cheap Suit, hasn’t a clue of the undefeated record Phasma holds. 

“Begin!” The ref calls, immediately hopping out of the ring as he knows what is to come.

“Oh baby, you are-”

Phasma went quick for a side kick in the abs. The young man stumbles, hitting the floor. He scrambles to his feet, and when he does he senselessly attacks Phasma. She could have knocked him out any moment, yet she has a habit of playing with her prey. A dodge, a block, a counter punch or kick, this boy has no chance. It’s a shame, he is probably a skilled fighter. Finally, she has enough of this fun. A back spinning kick square to the jaw. Hux swears he sees the sparks of ego leave the boy’s head when that foot makes contact. Like a ragdoll, his body drops. He’s a bleeding, bruised mess. Phasma barely broke a sweat. 

Cheap Suit rushes into the ring, looking at what was probably his new star pupil. His eyes bulge with shock, mouth slacked open. Staring up at Phasma, he is speechless. 

“Next time, bring me someone who won’t waste my time.” She coldly states, not even sparing the poor guy a glance as she leaves the ring. 

“Holy shit, folks, that is one hell of a fighter!’ The announcer sends the crowd into a frenzy. People reach out to touch her as she strides towards the tent of her gym. She exchanges a knowing grin with Hux who always finds it a pleasure to spar with the skilled fighter. Taking a distant seat from Ben, her face is without expression. 

“One day, Ben, it’ll be you kissing my foot.” Her voice is ice. 

“Hasn’t happened yet, Amazonian.” His just as frosty. 

Hux is never able to tell if their words are playful banter or genuine loathing. The few times Hux has witnessed them spar, Phasma never had the upper hand. Mostly because Ben seems to have no receptors for pair. That, or it simply gets him off. The same could be said with Hux and Phasma. She’s gotten him plenty bloody and bruised, but he’s come out on top each time. Of course, afterwards, he’d collapse in the ring, to everyone’s delight. 

“Solo, don’t get disqualified.” Is the encouraging words Snoke has to offer. 

“I can’t make any promises.” Ben rises from his fold up chair. 

The stride he carries himself with is accompanied by the ravenous cheer of the crowd. He’s a fan favorite. Ben Solo is a modern day gladiator. Hux admits only in his conscious mind, that Ben is his favorite spectacle as well.

He enters the ring like smoke through a vent. A pressed stare sheds his hunger to begin. The other opponent is a man that matches his height and built. It was odd, the man looked like a double of Ben with the same fashion of hair tied into a bun. Hux looks closely at Ben, noticing the clench of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. 

“Alright, folks, it looks like a pair of twins about to battle it out! Keep your eyes open, you don’t want to miss this one!” The announcer sounds as giddy as the crowd. Hux bites at his lip, wondering if Ben was as focused on Hux’s fight prior. 

“Begin.” The ref didn’t even bother entering the ring. 

The first and most frightening move is Ben dropping his arms. His feet are in the stance but he doesn’t have his arms up like his opponent. Sweat leaks from the doppleganger’s forehead. The dropping of the arms could mean two things. The first, the one who dropped his arms is completely mindless to Muay Thai and wants to be destroyed. The second, the one who dropped his arms knows exactly what he is doing. The latter of the two is what the opponent is hoping for. 

He strikes a jab at Ben’s face. Ben quickly moves his head, stepping to the left. The other opponent quickly jumps back, although Ben doesn’t try for any offense. He begins to circle the fighter that has to be shitting himself right about now. 

“What’s going on?” Phasma is standing with Hux outside of the tent. The crowd is loving it, but they both know something more sinister is taking place. 

The opponent goes for a round house kick. Ben only needs to hold up a hand to deflect it from hitting his ribs. The leg bounces like a child’s ball, Ben doesn’t waver at all. The opponent, frantic in his dread, goes for a full attack. It’s senseless but he begins throwing punches as skillful as any fighter who has been at it for years. However, it is nothing to what Ben had been waiting to do. 

The punch to the opponent’s abs pops the poor guy off his feet. He lands and immediately is met with a foot to the face. Ben won’t let him fall. He left hooks the guy in the cheek, and finishes him with an uppercut. He charges to the man who’s eyes spin around their sockets. 

“Kylo!” A woman’s voice breaks through the silent crowd, all shock and awe.

That single voice exorcized whatever furious demon had possessed him in that moment. He halts, the opponent wobbles into a faint. Paramedics rush into the ring, and somehow Ben avoids getting a disqualification. The announcer is saying something to the crowd that sets them off into another fit of blind excitement. Ben has already left the ring. 

It’s easy to find him a crowd, especially since the next fight has them built up and rushing to the ring. Hux slaps the hood of his sweater over his head, weaving through the fanatics. He’s the looming tall figure with his head down, standing before a girl a foot shorter than him. 

The brunette doesn’t bother fixing the crown of daisies in her braided hair as she speak rapidly to Ben. The freckles on her face are moist with the tears that still dribble from her eyes. She looks as though she should be modeling for a bohemian fashion ad, not watching a Muay Thai fight. A sore and sober thumb in the mob. And she most certainly doesn’t look like the type of woman Ben would be fancied with. Yet, he stands there, looking solemnly into her big brown eyes. It’s easy to read his lips. Hux can practically hear the repetitive apology that spills out of him. 

Another man that stands to the side of them, wearing a jacket that doesn’t fit him well enough, claps his hands together as he displays an almost stupid smile on his face. He’s speaking wildly, making exaggerated hand gestures. The woman sniffles, chuckling a bit at whatever he has to say. Ben keeps the same shameful look Hux found him in. The man with the jacket does a bit of a skip in front of them, leading them both towards the parking lot. The girl has her arms loop around Ben’s bicep, resting her head on him.

“I wonder what that was about?” Hux hears Phasma who apparently had been standing beside him this entire time. 

“I couldn’t tell you.” He shrugs, turning towards the tent. 

“Weird.” Is her only response. 

*****

He plops himself on the marble sink of his bedroom’s bathroom. The toothbrush is now slouched in his mouth, instead of brushing his teeth. Slumped over, he can’t shake the feeling of being severely disappointed. Not in himself, and he won’t admit the truth.

Hux thinks of all the times he watched Ben’s body glistens with sweat during a spar. How his heavy breathing matched his sloppy, yet effective technique. The way he’d stop destroying the punching bag to just lean against it and let out a large exhale while his hands run down it in exhaustion. How he probably runs his hands down that girl the same way after an hour in bed, and how it should be Hux-

“God damn it!” He yells to himself, ripping the toothbrush out. He rinses his mouth, anticipating that when he spits the thought of Ben would be washed down the sink, too. 

He groans at the sound of his cell phone going off. Dragging his feet about his bedroom, he falls onto his bed, snatching his phone from the second pillow that is never used. The number is unfamiliar to him, yet he answers either way. 

“Hello?” He pinches the bridge of his nose at the background sound of a bar. 

“Hey, Hux, I need help.” Ben’s slurred voice catches Hux off guard. He jolts up right from his bed. 

“How in the Hell did you get my number?” 

“Phasma, look, not important. Are you going to help me?” The sound of the bar vanishes, trading places with honking cars and Ben screaming out a few choice words away from the receiver. 

“With what?” Hux is already finding his shoes. 

“I need you to get to this bar before the police do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round Two! Ha, see what I did there?


	3. Heavy Hitter

Hux squirms against the leather interior of his car, parked in front of a criminal infested back drop of a few abandoned buildings. He left his home in his thick, grey fabric shorts and a black tank, thinking it would leave him in a state of content. Being as exposed as he feels, it makes matters worse. He’s not intimidated by this part of Los Angeles. The part in which the bricks of the buildings sink into one another, the sidewalks cracked and shifted as though to lift themselves from the Earth’s crust. People walk in all hours of the night in this area, some with intent, others simply know no other way to go about these hours. Hux knows places like these. He grew up in it. 

Sinking into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help himself from walking backwards into his memories. Growing up in the part of Ireland that Americans are completely ignorant to. They know of the green hills, the small towns, the people who swear by their encounters with fairies. Force fed Hollywood bullshit. He grew up in part of Ireland where kids as young as ten ran about the streets, picking locks to the chains around condemned buildings to drink away their step mother’s cheap liquor. He was one of those kids. 

Face always dirty, nails broken at all given times, finding food for himself left in the blind spots of a gas station clerk. These were the days in which he was especially aggressive, yet he always came home with less bruises than the other boy. His mother, when sober enough to notice, would always shout at him in that ill lit kitchen of theirs:

“What’s the matter with you, boy? Huh! You’re angrier than the man who wacked your father!” Then she’d wrap her witch fingers about the whiskey bottle on the table she pulled herself up from, plucking the booze from step father number three. 

Firstly, he didn’t know his father or the man who killed him, so he didn’t care to relate to the comparison. Secondly, he knew exactly why he was angry, but he wouldn’t tell her or anyone else for that matter. When he did have enough courage to tell someone, at the age of seventeen, he was stabbed. His best friend pulled a butterfly knife on him faster than he could take it all back and hide it up as a joke. 

In the hospital bed, staring at the popcorn ceiling, he made the decision to go to America. In the west coast of that country, there is a city near the ocean painted rainbow. 

Hux loses himself to the present, hearing the sound of garbage cans falling. Looking out the windshield, he finds Ben rushing out of an alley. Reaching over the passenger seat, he opens the door. As if choreographed, the door opens, Ben slides in, shuts it, and they take off. Hux smiles momentarily at the spark of excitement, hearing the sound of distant sirens. He speeds out of the parking lot, cooling off when he enters the roads. 

“What the Hell is going on Ben?” Hux drives towards nowhere in particular. 

“These guys at the bar,” Ben reclines the seat, lying back in relief. “They touched a waitress inappropriately so I put them in their place. Some lost tourist was there, got scared, called the cops.” He shrugs. 

The only visible injuries on Ben are found on his knuckles. He did most of the damage, of course. He breathes in slowly, resting comfortably in Hux’s car. His ripped jeans ride low on his hips. Today’s band shirt is black and the band itself is Tool. It crinkles up his chest, exposing the muscular V that’s tip sinks into the band of his boxers. Hux has both hands on the stirring wheel, staring straight ahead. 

“So, will I find you as a rough sketch on the news station?” He makes a left. 

“No one in this part of town talks to the cops, I’ll be fine.” He laughs softly in his exhausted state. 

They drive silently for a few minutes, Hux patiently waits for Ben to give him directions to somewhere, anywhere. He’s becoming distracted by how far apart Ben’s legs are spread. How his shirt continues to rise with each relieving shift. 

“Where am I taking you? And why did you call me? Why not your girlfriend?” Hux swallows down his words hard. 

“Girlfriend?” Ben seems genuinely terrified. Maybe, in his drunken haze, he’s made a commitment with a stranger.  
“The girl with daises in her hair at the competition earlier.” Hux tightens his hands around the steering wheel. 

“Rey? That’s my cousin. Her fiancé is the guy with the goofy smile who never wears his own jackets.” Ben chuckles, patting Hux’s thigh a bit too high up. Hux gulps, face warming up.  


“Great, where am I taking you?” Hux has never been this tense in his life. He’d give anything to break out of his skin. 

“Do you want to take me home, handsome?” Ben chuckles. 

“Funny.” Hux’s voice dries out his mouth. 

“Make a left here.” 

*****

Somewhere along the drive, Hux turned up the radio and played music as Ben would mutter a turn here and there. He never looked to Ben, but every now and then he felt his eyes on him. The romantic in him wants to drive all about Los Angeles, stopping on a hill to watch the sunrise with the man to his right. 

_Love me. Please love me._

Desperation, knowing damn well why he can’t keep his eyes off him. Not his technique, the sharp jabs, the sloppy, heavy kicks. He watches the sweat glisten on his skin, the deathly focus in his eyes. How each time he goes offense, he acts as though to kill something dark that haunts him. The rude, taste of taunting he shares with Hux. Wondering if he stays late just to be alone with him, too.

Does Ben’s eyes follow the tension of Hux’s muscles when he goes for the attack? Does he licks his lips at the sight of his heavy breathing after a good spar? And when he lets that shower water run down his own face, are there eyes burning with desire following the trail of every droplet? 

_Please, yearn for me, too._

“Right here.” Ben interrupts. 

Hux pulls near a record shop he’s heard about before, Rebellion Records. He parks and perks a brow at Ben, hoping he’s not about to rob the place. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Ben laughs, running a hand through his loose locks. “I own the store with Rey, we share a loft right above it.” The lights are still on, shining through the windows on the second floor. 

“I didn’t know that.” He replies, smiling slightly. 

“You never asked.” Ben lifts the seat up, turning to him. Their faces are dangerously close. Hux is the first to recoil and he does so quickly. 

“I never thought you’d care for me to ask anything personal.” He scoffs, looking as far away from Ben as he physically could. 

“Ask me something personal.” He could hear the smile in Ben’s voice. Hux relaxes a bit and decides to get a curiosity taken care of. 

“Earlier, during your match. I noticed you went harder than usual, almost like it was personal. What was that about?” He turns and is met with lips. 

Hard, passionate lips that wanted Hux to shut the fuck up. Lips that crashed into his, and he accepted all the of damages with an eager tongue. Ben wraps a hand around the back of Hux’s head, tangling fingers in his red hair. His other hand reaches low, unbuckling Hux from his seat, to push him into an uncomfortable position. His legs are on either side of Ben who snarls him in this hungry lock. Ben’s move his hand onto Hux’s thigh and it’s going to places that vibrates Hux’s entire body with heat. Hux has his hands on Ben’s hips and he’s gone. Far gone, lost in him and wanting to stay delirious. 

He’d kill to be taken to the lowest depth of this alcohol induced pool of lust. Melt with him, feel his heart beat, heavy hitter give him a knock out. He wants this destructive passion to set him aflame. And when Ben’s hand reaches between his legs he pushes into his palm without shame. 

Then, Ben breaks away. 

“Wouldn’t you, in any given chance, beat the living shit out of yourself if you could?” Ben asks breathlessly, his forehead pressed against Hux’s. 

“What?” He’s still reeling in from whatever had just occurred. 

Ben retreats instantly. He crawls out of the car in a swift motion, slamming the door shut. Hux watches him stomp away, disappearing into that dark record shop. A fictional character closing the book on himself. 

So ... Hux starts the car and drives the night to waste in the urban of Los Angeles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K.O. folks!


	4. Destroy You

Hux never had an experience in which his body sets fire and his head floats away. Raw passion, a dying need to touch and be touched. He sits at the conference, giving his rousing speech, winning over all of the board members. Feared, respected, it’s all the same to someone in his position. With his algorithms and cleverness he pulled this company out of debt and made foreign connections that granted all of them a stupid amount of wealth and power. So why is it he prefers a record shop owner whose wardrobe consists of band tees and plaid? Who can’t buy a single pair of lasting jeans to save his life? Why not one of the men here? These men who are egotistical and match his lifestyle and wealth. He should want one of them, shouldn’t he?

Hux takes a seat and is applauded. He might have been applauded long before. There’s no way of telling, he was in autopilot once more. The gym is calling his name. The grimy, hazardous place full of old equipment. Only the ambitious find themselves there, and that is where he needs to be now. To be alive. 

*****

Phasma has been giving him shifty looks since the start of his workout. She scans him up and down, sometimes a brow raised, sometimes with pursed lips. Hux stands beneath the pull-up bar and finally breaks. 

“Do I look especially pretty, today, Phasma?” He questions, chalking up his hands.

A smirk slides on her face. She’s bent over, adding weights for her dead lifts. 

“Who are you waiting for?” She gets into her squat, ready to lift two hundred something pounds. 

“Excuse me?” He hops, starting his pull-ups. 

“You’ve been glancing at the doors every five seconds. Who are you waiting for?” She lifts the bar well over her head, holding it there before safely dropping it. Repeat. 

“Coincidence, eyes wander during work-outs.” He mutters, switching to one arm chin ups. 

“You know who’s not here?” She’s smiling with those weights over her head. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“Ben Solo.” 

The weights drop, though it is not that vibration he is feeling. 

“I hadn’t notice.” He drops to strap weights to his ankles. 

“Just how I don’t notice the way you watch him.” 

The hardest hit to the stomach he’s received from her. 

“He has a unique fighting style. You know we’ve never sparred before. When that time comes, I want to be victorious.” He will use the excuse of these chin ups as to why his face is red. It’s not the recollection of last night. Not the haunting feeling of Ben’s hand rubbing against him in the cramp space of his car. 

“Who are you lying to, now? Me or yourself.” She tosses on more weights. 

“Both.” He drops, dragging himself towards the locker room. Phasma catches his arm, halting him in his journey. 

“Listen, I know he’s tempting to a guy like you. And I also know he likes giving pain more than receiving.” Her teeth are baring, her severity worrying him a bit. 

“What does-”

“He’ll eat you alive, Hux. I’ve watched him long enough to know that much.” She throws his arm aside. 

Being as shaken as he is, he decides to spend more time there. Punch it all out on the punching bag. It’s a loss, not having Snoke around on this day. No one dares spar without him, knowing its only worth it when he’s there to give critiques, as well as for safety reasons. Hux wraps his knuckles, back turned to the gym. And as he tightens the last strap, the sound of that door creaking open echoes against his turned back. He will not turn around. He will not turn around. 

*****

Around eight is when Phasma left. Later than usual, perhaps to make sure Hux didn’t do anything stupid. Before that, the gym saw little to no one else enter its doors. Ben has been one of the few and still is. Working out well past closing hours as he usually does. Hux avoids giving him any attention. Ben hasn’t said a word to him or made any sort of hint that he wants Hux’s audience. After last night, there is half expectance of something to happen. He didn’t know what, but it should be addressed. Of course, he is far too shy of a man to bring it up first. 

“Are you going to use that jump rope the entire night, sweetheart?” Ben inquires from behind, the pet name not even close to endearing. It is a prick to the back of his neck. 

“Now that I know you want it, yes.” He replies, picking up in speed. 

Ben snatches it mid swing. Hux is now thoroughly convinced this man feels no pain. The few times the leather rope hit Hux’s feet was agonizing enough to make him want to cry. And here is Ben, grabbing it as though he caught a falling leaf. 

“Thank you so much to stop for me. I appreciate it.” His snide remark makes Hux turn around and face him. His hands tight around the rope’s handles. 

“If I knew you wanted to jump rope so badly, I could have taken you to an elementary school where all the other children play double dutch.” Hux attempts to step up but is met with a hard palm to the chest. He stammers backwards, releasing the handles. 

It’s very childish, the way he shoves Ben with his back turned. Ben stumbles forward, catches himself and takes a deep breath. He tosses the jump rope forward then spins on one heel to look Hux in the eyes.

The snap of a slap against Hux’s cheek takes him by surprise. There was no dignity, no honor. A cold, hard bitch slap. He even gasped afterwards, stunned that it occurred at all.

“How da-”

A slap to the other cheek and this time Hux’s entire body bends. He sets himself straight, and finds that Ben is already creeping into the ring. He waves his hand for Hux to get up there with him. Although its highly forbidden for people to spar while no one else is around, in case of injury, Hux is more than happy to leap into the ring. 

“I cannot believe you just slapped me, twice.” Hux is already circling, Ben doing the same. 

“I did, what will you do about it?” 

Ben goes for a kick first, which is what Hux expects. He easily kicks it out and blocks the right hook that he also anticipated. Hux makes a jab to Ben’s stomach, meeting him with a knee next. Ben hits the knee off of him, slamming his elbow into Hux’s face. He recovers with a back spinning kick that narrowly misses Ben, who with all of his spontaneous moves, goes straight for the forehead with his fist. Hux is dizzied for a second, awakened by an on coming kick to the chest. He manages to dodge it, planting a few kidney shots on Ben. Now, Ben is mad. Hux is waiting for it. He waits for Ben to make that swift, raging lunge forwards. And his nose is greeted by Hux’s knuckles. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to shock Ben. Channeling his own frustration, Hux decides to throw in some Jiu Jitsu. He tackles Ben to the ground and knows it will be game over then. 

Or so he thought. 

Ben, to Hux’s great miscalculation, is very well trained in Jiu Jitsu. Hux’s arrogance gets him pinned in the most humiliating of ways. On his knees, face on the floor, Ben has one arm wrapped Hux’s lower arms, the other wrapped around Hux’s biceps. It’s in such a strange way that somehow Ben is able to restrain Hux’s arms all while managing to wrap a hand around Hux’s neck. 

“Get off of me!” Hux shouts, thrashing about to no avail. 

“You can’t convince me that you don’t like this.” Ben’s voice is hot in Hux’s ear. 

“Fuck off.” Hux breathes, ashamed at how much he does enjoy this.

With all of his money, his power, he wants nothing more than to be dominated. Clean, tailored suits, expensive champaign, cologne only sold in Europe, this is his life outside of the gym. And this is why he’d give anything to be fucked hard in such a dirty, obscene place by a furious drunk with more issues than he can imagine. He wants the domination, the punishment, he wants to take all of Ben in him. 

“I remember someone pressing their crotch into my palm. Someone who moaned into my lips.” Ben slips his lower hand down Hux’s abs. Sinking under his gym shorts, his boxer briefs. Hux can’t pretend to struggle any more. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Ben moves the other hand around Hux’s neck, up towards Hux’s lips. He traces them, sticking the tip of his finger into his mouth, which Hux licks sensually, wanting to savor the taste. Ben presses himself harder onto him, his fingers an inch away from Hux’s erect cock. 

“I want to destroy you.” Ben rubs himself against Hux, who whimpers in anticipation. “Beg for it. Plead for me to take you.” He lifts his body, hands remain where they are. 

Hux swallows hard, shutting his eyes, turning himself over.

“Please, touch me. Please, Ben. I am begging you.” Hux is out of breath. 

He wakes up the moment Ben begins to laugh. Hux is knocked onto his side, everything ending like a splash of cold water. On his side, he barely lifts himself, weighed down by what he hopes is not happening. There is Ben, laughing in a cruel manner. He’s standing now, hands on his knees, his torso bent over. 

“What’s going on?” Hux stares at the ground. 

“I didn’t think you would actually beg.” Ben stretches his arms over his head, nonchalantly. “I knew you were desperate after what happened last night, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He starts to trail towards the ropes. 

“I don’t understand.” Hux’s lips begin to quiver. 

“I notice how you look at me, all the time.” One leg out of the ring. “Last night, I got drunk, and wanted to amuse myself. Don’t worry, though, I’m done with you. I had my fun.” He disappears into the locker room.

Hux is stuck in this weird state of reality falling back together again. He doesn’t move until he hears Ben leave the gym. When that door shuts he lets out a scratchy scream. One suffocated by his running tears. He carries himself out of the ring, weeping, hurt. In the shower he stays until the water turns cold. The towel wrapped around his waist falls apart as he sits numb on the bench between the lockers. He’s been broken physically many times before, but he has never been torn apart like this before. He was turned into a living, breathing joke. 

Dressing in the casual clothes he arrived in, Hux grabs his things and head for the bars. He can destroy himself all on his own just fine.


	5. Apprentice

Hux slowly opens his eyes, blinking to the beat of a heart monitor. The lights are off, sunlight through a small window is warming up the right side of his body. He breathes slowly, shifting slightly. There are IVs stuck in both of his arms. He groans, and feels pain in his lower torso as well as his right cave. A nurse ambles inside the private room. She has a scrunched, upset face as she jots down some notes on her pad, checking the IVs and heart monitor. 

“Seems that you’re awake.” She rips away his sheets, revealing to him his injuries, jotting down more notes before throwing the sheets back on top of him. 

“What happened?” His scratchy voice leaks out. 

“No one knows for sure.” Her voice is littered with frustration. “But there was an anonymous call to the police. Showed up. Eleven people badly injured and stupidly drunk.” Her eyes won’t focus on him. 

“Shit.” He sinks into the bed. 

“Not a single victim is talking and I imagine you won’t either. All we know is someone stabbed your leg with a broken pool stick and another stabbed you in your lower abdomen with a broken Miller Lite bottle. And yet,” She places a stern hand on his bandage cave giving it a squeeze. He cringes, but does not resist. Part of him knows he deserves this. “your knuckles are the most tarnished, two broken, and one had a tooth in it. As for the other men.” He shakes her head, knowing damn well what had happened last night. “You know, if it wasn’t so unbelievable that one slim little punk took out ten men on his own, I would have asked you to be left rotting in jail. But, hey, what do I know? I’m just a nurse.” She walks over to the other side of him to give his bandaged torso a few good pats before stomping out. 

He remembers a bit from the night prior. One guy touched the female bartender a bit roughly. When he intervened, a friend of the guy called him a slur and asked him what he was doing out of San Francisco. He swung at one, and had to swing at others. His head is deep in the pillow, eyes shifting to the gold light bleeding into the room. Soft songs of birds put him to sleep. 

*****

In all honesty First Order Inc. are relieved he’s taking some paid days off. They know he hasn’t even thought of the idea of a vacation and he has earned a full month to burn through. The doctors say he’ll need a week or so before he can walk on his own with mild discomfort. It’s day three and he’s walking about the hospital. A thick white robe hides the thin hospital gown. His feet are cold on the linoleum floor. He bolts into an elevator when familiar nurses turn the corner.

He goes to the first floor, and sneaks out of the back. He knows the place, it’s the kinder type of hospital. One that only people like him can afford. His head drops, thinking about the ten other men who have most likely been kicked out of wherever they were sent to. 

Creeping into the courtyard in the back of the hospital, he devours the fresh air. There are cobblestone walkways between the fresh, green grass. Trees lay about with bushes of lavender and roses. He watches other recovering patients work with their physical trainers. Some appear so old, if they tripped they’d become dust. Hux feels he might do the same. He keeps to himself, lurking out of the waves of hands and smiles of strangers. 

There’s another building separated by a tall, cinder block wall that encloses the hospital and courtyard. He can’t quiet place when, but he knows that he’s seen this building in the past. He looks behind both shoulders, certain no one is looking in his direction. He knows he ripped a stitch or two, jumping up that thick tree. Shuffling up the trunk, pulling on some branches, he is high enough to bound over the wall cracked by thick green vines. 

“I’m breaking out of a hospital. Why am I breaking out of a hospital?” He whispers to himself once landing onto the grass on the other side of the wall.

Raising himself up, he sits there for a moment, legs apart and bent, elbows on each one. He watches a lady bug creep about the dandelions. Thinking to himself that he is permanently damaged after that night, the idea to run away penetrates him. Take a Volkswagen to Tucson, Arizona. Kiss a man with a long name, and own a desert ranch. He’ll listen to the coyotes at night and never explain his scars. Then he slaps himself mentally, thinking about how dramatic he’s being over the incident with Ben. And this sinks his mind a bit deeper. 

Why did Ben catch his attention, at all? What was it? Was there always this hateful tension? 

“No.” He rubs at the back of his neck, remembering the first time he walked into the gym.

It was Ben who looked his way. It was Ben who helped him with his stance. Standing behind him, guiding his arm and fists when Snoke was focused on other new fighers. Ben whose face was close enough to catch a whiff of Hux’s red hair. And one day, after hours, when his hands slid onto his hips to shift them into the perfect fighting stance, they stayed there for a moment too long. That is what caught Hux, looking behind his shoulder and watching Ben walk away. It was his first month, long covered up by nearly two years of cold shoulders and provoking insults. 

He rests his head against the vines, looking up at the blue sky with spots of fluffed clouds. He lets the shade roll of his face, thinking about how Ben only needed a month to tangle Hux for years. The times they made eye contact, who was looking first? Hux can’t remember, but he is almost positive there was an unspoken ... no. He wipes his face with his sore, bandaged hands, standing on his feet. 

Discovering the larger courtyard, with finer vegetation, he sees an old man sitting on a cement bench in the middle of the yard. One man who sat in a slump, smiling at no one in particular. Hux shrugs his shoulder, having nothing else better to do than to have some company.

“May I sit here?” He asks the unshaven man dressed in a tan robe with slippers too pricey for any type of hospital. The man smiles at him, patting on the vacant space. 

“Luke Skywalker.” He holds out his hand. Hux takes it and is happy to find that Luke’s shake is intentionally soft. 

“Brendol Hux, do we know each other, Luke?” Hux inquires, knowing he’s heard that name before. 

“Not personally, nevertheless my sister is a princess with great influence. She probably spoke of me to the people.” He nods his head, folding his hands together.

Hux experiences a great drop within his body. As though to be caught with his pants down. He knows well who this man is. Senator Organa’s brother. She used his name when running a tough campaign for better mental health care facilities. Thanks to her, California had a complete reform in regards to mental health. She doesn’t take credit, but the papers give it to her for the wave of other states that followed the example. He’s heard the name Luke Skywalker plenty of times, her heart wrenching story, the poor niece she has. And their father, the untimely suicide Luke had witnessed as a young man. 

“I’m a powerful witch. Just as our father was before he gave his life to restore balance. My sister can use the force of nature, as well, but she prefers leading the community. I’m so proud of her.” He sighs, shoulders dropping. “My abilities are fading, lack of practice and all.”

“I believe it, its hard to practice when in a ...” 

“A hospital, I know where I’m at. Most people don’t believe in this type of power, so those like me end up in places like this.” He chortles. 

It’s hard to look into a man’s kind eyes, knowing his mind is shambles. All Hux wants to do is help him. 

“Grand delusions and hallucinations. A pained schizophrenic and the state wants to dump him in a cage of an institution with only a handful of staff members who are underpaid! Well I say, no more! These people are not second class citizens! My brother, my father, and all of our loved ones suffering from mental illness deserve to be treated as people!” Senator Organa had a speech that even fired up Hux who never really paid attention to politics. 

“I’m not surprised. Most people have very narrow views.” He smiles when Luke slaps his shoulder, pleased to be understood. 

“Exactly! I think everyone has the gift to use the force of nature, but they’re all closed off. It’s fine, my daughter will lead the way to their awakening. She’s my whole world.” His head tilts up and there is something beautiful reflected in his crinkled eyes.

“Rey.” Hux was honestly trying not to think of Ben. It’s a challenge when sitting next to the man’s uncle. 

“That’s her, flowers in her, light in her smile. Sometimes its hard to believe something so beautiful came from me.” He lets a tear slip and doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “How do you know my girl?” 

“I-um-I train with her cousin.” He chokes, having to beat on his chest to get air in his lungs. 

“I see.” Luke’s face turns dark, staring at his comfy feet. “Kylo Ren has been eaten whole by dark magic. He spoke out a curse long ago. It tainted his soul, but I promise you-” Luke takes Hux’s bandaged hand and rests it tenderly between his. “-there is light in him still. He needs to let go of his past and he’ll be saved.” 

The sincerity in Luke’s eyes is strangling Hux. It’s making him doubt prior ideas of Ben, even after everything. He’s making mental plans on how to leave for Tucson within the month. 

*****

Hux is notorious for busting his stitches and hopping over the cinder block wall. His hospital time is now two weeks considering he managed to sprang his ankle when returning yesterday, all the while he opened up his abdomen wound to terrible proportions. He can’t help it. Luke is becoming a sort of mentor to him. There are truths to his words, even if they are in riddles. The way Luke talks about the life in all living things, connected and flowing. He tried showing Hux how to move the wind and they stayed outside for a long time following the direction of the breeze. And of course, he’s learning more about Ben. 

He doesn’t ask to know about him, Ben just happens to come up when Luke talks about Rey. He learned that when Rey and Ben were younger, they would pretend to be great witch warriors and that is where his nickname Kylo Ren came from, thinking it was a fine name for a witch warrior. They’d spend hours in the backyard, swinging about wooden sticks, coming up with elaborate fantasies. Of course, Luke spoke of this as the early years of their training. Luke is proud of each word and Hux is honored to hear them. It’s the reason why he’s so bothered being bed bound and having nurses monitor his room like he was a prisoner. They found out of his wall jumping when they found him groaning on the ground with more wounds than when he came into the hospital. 

“Brendol Hux, you are more trouble than you’re worth.” The nurse, Poe Dameron shakes his head, sitting on the visitor’s chair besides Hux’s bed. He sneaks in vending machine snacks with a wink and a charming smile. One of the good ones. 

“That’s an odd way to flirt with a man.” He teases. Poe smiles, patting Hux’s thigh. 

“Oh you, winning over my heart with each visit we have.” He’s a married man who doesn’t mind amusing his patients. 

“Let me take you away to Arizona, darling. We’ll live on a desert ranch and I’ll buy you a nice car.” He can’t help but to laugh at himself. Poe flops his head onto the side of the bed, cracking up with him. 

“Will you buy me a nice car either way? The misses need some hot wheels.” He hands Hux a bag of mini cookies. 

“What, you’re married?” Hux gasps dramatically. Poe shakes his head with a chortle bubbling out of his throat. 

“What’s a guy like you doing without any visitors?” He rests his cheek on his hand. 

“It’s hard for me to make friends. Big, scary business man and all.” He rips open the bag, shoving a handful in his mouth. Poe rubs Hux’s hands in an endearing manner.

“I hear Luke Skywalker is eager to see you, again. My buddy, on the other side, tells me he talks about you a lot. Says you’re the red headed mage who will bring his nephew into the light.” Poe smiles, sympathy in his soft eyes. 

“He says a lot of things.” 

“Poe, we need you.” A nurse pops her head in for a second, scurrying away just as quickly.

“See you later, man.” He pats Hux’s functional ankle, scurrying out of the room.

He devours the rest of the cookies, thinking he would love to take Poe to Tucson with him. A nice, funny guy with good looks and charm. So, why is it when he sits back and day dreams it’s always Ben he’s kissing on that porch under the hot sun? 

He’s becoming sick with this toxicity. How hurt he has been by Ben and yet he’s still thinking about him. Wouldn’t Ben look so gorgeous under the purple and pinks of the setting sun behind the-

“Fuck.” Hux runs his hands down his face, groaning, slipping further under the sheets. He jolts back up at the sound knocking on the doorframe. “Yeah?” He says to the fist knocking. 

“Can I come in?” A woman says from the other side. He’s assuming it’s a lost visitor. He’s had a few of those. 

“Sure.” He sighs, ready to direct them to the right room.

Cold shock pales his face, seeing who he knows to be Rey, enter the room with a small vase that held a few yellow roses. Her smile is wide, open mouthed. She strolls into the room, barely bothered by Hux’s mortified face. Setting the vase on a small table near the window, she sits were Poe once did. 

“I’m Rey.” She holds out her hand. Her shake is gentle like her father’s. 

“I know.” He gulps, the light headed feeling of sudden surrealism is making him sweat. 

“Hux, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“My father says hello and that you’re a fine apprentice.” She giggles, not sure where to put her hands so she squishes them between her crossed legs. 

“He’s a fantastic man.” Hux looks into the empty pack of cookies. “How is he?” 

“Well, he’s not worse, but he’s not better. The same as he usually is.” Her face drops for a second before bouncing back into a grin. 

“Why are you here?” He sets the trash on the table with the flowers. 

She shifts uneasily, thinking about saying something that could possibly get her into trouble. Taking a deep breath, she does so anyways. 

“I usually visit my father whenever I can. I saw him first.” Her eyes are on everything but him. “Then, I saw the guy that Ben fought last Thursday, the one that looked like him. Turns out his dad is pretty wealthy and got him into this place. Funny how that works, huh?” 

“How is the guy doing?” Hux didn’t forget about him. He’s been on his mind for a while.

“Bad, but its nothing that can’t be fixed ... it’s really bad.” Her eyes are moist. She refuses to cry in front of Hux. 

“Why did Ben beat the guy so badly?” Hux is asking himself more than he is asking Rey.

“You know Ben, hates himself more than anyone else on this planet. He saw a guy who looked like him and took the opportunity to let out some repressed emotions. That type of thing.” She shrugs it off. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed that. He seems pretty fucking proud of himself.” Hux nervously glances at her. 

“He hurt you, didn’t he? Said something awful, did something awful.” Her face drops into her hands, crumbling before his eyes. 

“Bragged about it, I’m sure.” His bitterness leaves a gross after taste. 

“No, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a few days. He likes you a lot.” The ending of her statement is word vomit. Another thing said that might get her in trouble.

“He has a shitty way of showing it.” Hux is red in the face, frustrated and feeling violent. He’d love to throw that obnoxious heart monitor out of the window. He’s not about to have his feelings chewed on a second time. 

“He’s scared of you, Hux!” She rises her tone, and its not him she’s upset with. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Ben is just, he’s just difficult. After everything with his dad he won’t-ugh! He won’t let anyone love him, including himself.” 

“That’s not my problem.” Hux turns his face from hers. She is silent for a long while, the air will have to be cut with a steak knife. 

“You’re right. Feel better.” She gets up to leave, he catches her wrist. 

He’s not sure why or what he has to say. He holds onto her and watches the hope mold her face. 

“Will you tell your dad, please, that it might be a while until I see him again.” Hux can’t look at her any more. 

“Yeah, of course. You're on the guest list, now, so you can visit him whenever.” Her voice trails along with her departure.

*****

After he was sure he could survive on his foot with just a wrap, he left the hospital on his own. Shorter than Poe wanted him to, but he hugged Hux either way. Slipping something in his pocket. It was a piece of folded napkin that read: “You have a friend. Let me know if you get into trouble.” followed by Poe’s phone number.

Home, he regrets leaving. 

His apartment is silent, forcing him to be with himself. He’s undressing and looks at the wound on his chest healing the best it could. He struggles to put on black sweatpants and a navy blue, sleeveless hoodie. Limping to the sunken living room, it is a challenge to make it down the three steps. He sprawls out on the sofa once victorious.

He’s alone with his thoughts. The thoughts of what Rey said and how he shouldn’t even think of the idea he’s been dying to play around with. What if Ben was only pushing him away? Everything he did, everything he felt, it was all genuine. He just can’t let anyone get close to him.

“He doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Hux picks himself up only to fall over to the front now. He head is between his legs and he tries not to scream. 

By himself there is nothing to stop his thoughts from crushing him. He goes back to those earliest memories he had first written off as a gym member being helpful. That had to be it. He has to be adding the romantic subtext all on his own. It was nothing, Hux made it weird and that is why it stopped. He breathes heavily, hand over his chest. 

He plummets hard into the past. The hands on his hips shifting him into a fighting stance. Did Ben inhale the scent of his hair? Was those hands on there too long. Yes, his back was pressed against Ben’s chest. Did those hands, didn’t they slip upwards for a moment? Were they crawling up the sides of his torso? 

In the car, Ben kissed him first. It was Ben who was desperately crashing into him. Was their a whimper in his throat? A moan, his hands were climbing up Hux’s hips. Ben couldn’t look at him. Ben wanted to be destroyed. Didn’t he want Hux to take him home? Was he only kidding, or the thought of having Hux in bed was something he truly yearned for. Sprawled on that passenger seat, he wanted Hux to look. He wanted him to yearn for him. 

He lifted his arms in the showers, always taking it after Hux because he needed him to stare. He needed his eyes to fall on him, watch the water lick the definition of his body. Because his eyes watched Hux first. 

During that spar, pinning Hux to the floor. His heart was racing against Hux’s back. He didn’t fall over, he nuzzled his head against his neck. It was his hand trailing down his chest, down his shorts, itching to touch Hux. Hux never touched him first. He never made any advancement first.

_He’s scared of you, Hux._

He leaves his apartment with the slam of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I listen to a lot of Interpol when writing. Narc, Specialist, Barricade and Memory Serves are the top four songs I replay the most.  
> Anyways, this chapter is the beginning of the End.


	6. Won't Hurt You

Hux stands with an uncomfortable waver. The cashier’s counter at Rebellion Records is bulky, tall and plastered with fliers for upcoming band performances. It is not at all compatible for the petite Rey. She has her head down, anxious that Hux might see her hurt. Finn rubs circles on her back, his oversized jacket crinkles with each tender touch. 

“Hey, sweetheart, that guests looks like a Misfits type of guy and he is lost in J-pop. How about you help him out.” He smiles with bright teeth. She nods her head, leaving quietly. Out of earshot, Finn changes his demeanor into rage. “Honestly, I am glad he moved out. I can’t even understand why we let that angry man-child live here for so long.” He fumes, whispering through his teeth. 

“What happened?” Hux would often think of Ben in such a way. Angry man-child.

“We don’t know! He only muttered about some mistake he made. He was missing for a week, came back with a bunch of empty boxes then moved out the same day. Didn’t even give Rey a proper goodbye. I would punch him, but I don’t think he feels pain.” Finn runs his hands down his face, dragging it down with his stress. 

“Where does he live, now? I need to see him.” He gulps hard, unable to make eye contact.

“Good luck, try not to get your nose broken.” Finn reaches into his pocket, picking out a key. He slides it across the wooden counter top. “He left Rey a copy for his building, for emergencies. Trust me, he won’t let you in any other way. Give me a second, I’ll write down the address.” 

*****

The top floor, apartment eight-thirty-three. Hux is swaying in the elevator that smells like mothballs and memories. The carpet is vacuumed, but a few years past its expiration date. He looks down at the designs of the elevator carpet, instead of looking through the open doors to the hallway he needs to be walking down. The doors shut, he is descending. 

The lobby. The key is heavy in his pocket. Is this technically breaking an entry? What if, he’s entirely wrong about this whole situation? Ben feels nothing, nothing for him or any one else. A hollow husk of a man who only gets a kick out of hurting others. But, if that is the case, Hux would want to know. His thumb pushes the button for the top floor. He rises and swallows hard as he limps his way onto the hallway. 

The hallway is dimly lit, there are windows on either end that mostly lights the way. He sees the dust in the rays of the sun, it soothes him. This building is old, and he smiles to himself thinking of how Ben must have drove by all of the nicer apartment buildings, but chose the brick one with character. 

He pauses. 

The wooden door with the mocking gold numbers: 833. 

Hux has never been more intimidated by a door. At the gates of the international airport, taking him to the land of loss opportunity, he was not afraid. However, this door, it worries him like a fork in a labyrinth. Sweaty palms, beating heart, he knocks three times. The shuffling of feet increases his heartbeat. The chain falling from the door, the click of an undone lock, handle turning. 

Ben is shirtless, a cigarette tittering between his lips. His black jeans are faded and riding awfully low. Hux realizes that he only started breathing once the door opened. Neither one of them say anything for a long while. He wonders if Ben is also just as relieved to see him. Smoke leaves his lips. 

“What?” Ben leans against the door frame. 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Ben begins to shut the door. The edge is tight in Hux’s hands. He only needs to look at Ben for him to groan, roll his eyes, and allow Hux to enter. Hux shuts the door behind him, watching Ben walk to a large open window. He sits on the sill, beside a plant growing in a chipped pot. A small dish sits beside it, a few dead cigarettes gather on top of the dish. 

Hux lets himself smile at the studio apartment. It’s how he imagined Ben to live. The kitchen is small with cabinet doors open. Some with food, some with dishes, not a single one organized. A small circular table stands awkwardly between two, mismatched fold up chairs. He likes the living room, with its two love seats, one black, one dark red, staring each other in the face. Colorful blankets draped over the back of them. A coffee table in between. Empty beer cans, an almost empty Jack Daniel’s bottle, and a Sylvia Plath poetry book open on the corner, all piled on the table. A surprise that Hux appreciates. The bed is in the corner, shrouded by fleece blankets, a thin comforter, a few sheets and way too many pillows. The head of the bed is pushed against the wall where a giant, sacred geometry mandola scroll is hanging. 

Eyes to Ben. Ben sitting so calmly on that sill, the light breeze swimming through his hair. Hux hobbles towards the wall the window penetrates. He rests against it, hands in his pockets. He could watch Ben all day. Watch the way the setting sun changes the shape of his face. 

“How are you?” Hux’s voice is gentle, genuine. 

Ben scoffs. 

“What do you want?” Ben blows smoke from his nostrils. 

“You were lying to me. When we were in the ring. You were lying to me, weren’t you?” 

He snuffs out the cigarette with the others on the small floral plate. His eyes fall to the struggling plant before finding Hux. He slips off the sill and walks until he is in front of Hux, not close enough to charge any heat. 

“Hux, this is very pathetic.” Ben’s words bleed toxicity. Hux has grown immune. 

“Tell me you weren’t. Look me in the eye and say you weren’t lying.” Hux tenses his muscles. 

“I wasn’t lying.” It falls flat. 

“You’re lying right now!” 

Hux, at this point, needs to tell himself this. Because, if Ben were telling the truth, Hux would be wrong. Wrong about all of these emotions he’s built up for the man. He’d be delusional, stalking a fellow fighter. He’d have to withdraw from the gym as a courtesy. The doubt he gulps leaves cuts in his throat. 

Ben steps aside, and shows him the door. 

“Why won’t you let anyone love y-”

“Shut up and get out.” Ben races to silence Hux. It gives himself away. 

“Ben, let me-”

He stomps towards Hux, arms out, ready to fling him over his shoulder and toss him out. Hux wraps his arms and a leg around Ben, spinning him to the ground. A painful move for him and Ben.

“Get off!” Ben shouts, elbowing him in the chest, luckily not on the side the stab wound is on. 

“Not until you tell me why! Why did you lie to me? Why are you so scared to let someone love you!” Hux struggles to keep him in lock. 

“Fuck you!” 

Ben flips him on his back, their limbs tangled as they violently grapple on the beige, scratchy carpet. It doesn’t take long for Ben to have Hux trapped. His back against the floor. He looks up to find a fist raised, and eyes full of fear. And soon the only thing he could see are those eyes. Agonizing, desperate eyes that know nothing but what it means to be hurt. Hux did the only thing he could to defend himself. 

One arm wraps itself around Ben’s shoulders. His hand twined in those wavy black locks. The other arm around his upper back, just below Ben’s armpits. His hand planting itself between Ben’s shoulder blades. Hux has his face against Ben’s collarbone. His eyes close and he breathes him in. Holding him there until his fist falls. Until he can’t move, restrained by an act of affection. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

 

*****

 

A memory can touch a person, if they so fall that deeply. Ben can feel the hot sunlight gathering about him. He can feel the notches of that large crooked stick he found in the backyard with Rey. His happiest memory was with Rey, Uncle Luke and his father. Rey and him were in the backyard in the beginning of June. They had lips stained with kool-aide and the imagination of the wildest of writers. They pretended to be witch warriors, inspired by Luke who wasn’t as sick at the time. They fought off a kingdom of awful warlocks. And the strongest of them all just came through the back door. 

“Witches, I should have known!” Han roared, stepping onto the lawn. His old metal band shirt was fading, obvious in the sun light. He wore faded blue jeans and leather boots. His hair messy from the long motorcycle ride home. 

Luke caught it all on camera. The scrunched face of Rey swinging that stick of hers madly about. Ben smiling wide at the sight of his father who charged after him as an evil king would. He dodged the whack of the stick, snatching Ben and holding him by his ankles. Only letting go when Rey slapped him a few times on the back of the caves. Off camera the muffled yells of Leia could be heard. 

“Uh-oh, be my shield kid!” He held Ben over his face. Leia came out to find both Rey and Ben with arms and legs spread out, trying to hide Han. That was the first time Ben had ever seen his mother laugh so hard with the three of them together. 

But he was young then. Too young to realize that his father didn’t smell sweet from cologne. It was the cheap liquor flavored like cherries and the stale soda he chased it with. He wasn’t working late at a construction job, but cutting deals with people who needed whatever it was they needed across the border. And when he passed out on the living room floor, it wasn’t so Ben could sleep beside him. 

At eleven, he began to understand the fights between his mother and father. One particular night, was the worst fight he had ever seen with them. Han had slurred speech and was making wide gestures with his arms and hands. Leia was tense, red in the face as she screeched at him. She tossed a few plates. Han had to say only a few words to turn her pale and teary eyed. She left up the stairs, leaving the drunk Han behind with Ben. 

And then, it was Ben’s turn. And he yelled. He yelled until he tasted iron in the back of his throat. He told his father to leave. 

“Ben-”

“I hate you and I hope you die!” Ben screamed before following his mother up the stairs. Han left without a word. 

Ben lied awake in his bed, listening to his bulky cellphone go on and off again. Ringing and ringing until finally there was nothing. He knew it was his father calling and when the last call ended, he rolled over on his side and slept heavily. 

A police officer showed up to their door a few days later. The officer twisted his hat in his hands. He was a young man and he had no good news to share. Ben remembers his mother falling to her knees. She shooed him away as the officer aided her. 

“Tell me what happened. Tell me!” She cried. 

Ben hid around the corner, out of sight, but close enough to hear. 

Han was found off the side of the highway in the middle of the desert. His entire motorcycle was crunched. His body mangled in the dirt. A cellphone in his hand. 

_A cellphone in his hand._

School after school. Ben eventually got good enough at fighting to where it was always the other person going home with the black eye or fat lip. Too good, good enough to send him away to boarding school, until the Dean called and threatened to press charges. Leia had no choice. 

Ben was sixteen. Him and his mother screamed at each other the entire ride to Uncle Luke’s house. He hadn’t seen Rey or Uncle Luke in a few years, but they had arms wide open for him. Ben opened the car door slightly, kicking it open when he had the chance to. Leia gasped and grabbed his upper arm. Her manicured nails digging into his flesh. Her goodbye was something to stain his memories, melting into his nightmares, for years and years to come:

“I know it was you who killed your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I need to the change the tags. I was planning for this to be a smutty, smutty fic and it turned into something waaaayyyyy different. I always go down this route. Emotional as fuck.


	7. The Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this fic! I am so glad at how it turned out and that there are people who are invested in what I had written. You guys are great and I hope you all enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks again everyone!

He knew he’d want Hux after that first month. Not even a full first day with Hux and he was desiring the man. The red head who carried himself with such reassurance and confidence. It was a thrill to know that a person like that was seeking help from a person like Ben. He’d live in those late nights at the gym. Just to run his fingers across the blades of his hips, to have Hux’s back against his chest, to catch the scent of his pricey conditioner. He could have, at many times, taste the nape of his neck if he wanted to. And Hux was reciprocating. 

He’d lean into Ben’s chest. He’d quiver at the contact of Ben’s hands lingering too long, shifting slightly up and down his sides. Goose bumps would rise on his arms as Ben traced his fingers down them. That one moment Hux was about to turn to look at him, he knew it would be game over. He’d kiss him hard, and never want to stop. Hux looked like the kind of person that would love someone no matter how ugly they were inside. 

Ben needed Hux to hate him, to loathe every part of him. He shouldn’t be loved, not after his sins. 

That night he called Hux to pick him up from the bar, was a sloppy mistake. In the car he made sure to look as appetizing as he could, and told himself if he saw Hux’s eyes fall on him he’d try. He’d try to let him feel something for the first time in a very long time. And when Hux revealed that he’s been watching Ben the entire time, by how he said he noticed Ben went harder than usual during that match, Ben lost it. He needed Hux beneath him. It was horrifying that there was a chance this yearning was one sided, yet Hux continued kissing him back. Hux was touching Ben as much as Ben was touching him. He’d craved to take Hux then and there, and felt his entire body surge with electricity when Hux pressed himself into his palm. 

Ben pulled away. He had to pull away. He couldn’t let someone like Hux into the pathetic life of his.

It was too late.

And in that ring, he wanted nothing more than to ravage Hux. To take him without words spared and every day after that. To run his lips against his neck, hands searching about the curves of his muscles. Breathing him in as he thrusts. He wanted it so badly he did the only thing he knew how to do in moments like those. Push the other person away. Push them into the ground so deep that they would never want to climb back up. And that is exactly what he did. 

Hux was gone for days. A week. Two weeks. 

Ben thought he would be relieved like he had been with all the others he’d hurt. Nevertheless, Phasma made sure he wasn’t. She knocked him out a few times during those days, the gym was silent as they saw Ben fall. He let himself bleed on that ring and thought about staying there, maybe ask her to stomp on his neck for good measure. 

He missed Hux. 

“What did you do to him?” Phasma screamed one night when they were alone. She was bare knuckled and had split his lip right open. She hadn’t a single bruise. 

Ben hid his face with his hair, nose turned to the floor of the ring. She wouldn’t let him be. She picked him up and left hooked him, holding him in place so he couldn’t flop onto the floor once more. Hands on either side of his face, she held him up and asked him a second time. She looked sickened by his bloodied, anguished smile. 

“I fell in love with him.” 

She let him drop.

 _I fell in love with him._

 

*****

 

Now, Hux knows. The cracks in Ben’s foundation. He’s been punishing himself for well over a decade. Making sure to suffer as much as he believes he should. Hux looks Ben in the eyes. A hand caressing the side of his face. He tells him that he will take Ben with all of his faults. All of his sorrows, his regrets, his pain, he wants Ben for exactly who he is. 

“I will love you for everything that is you.” Hux whispers into a promise of a kiss.

Ben grabs hold of Hux, carrying him to his bed. He drops him on his back, sitting on top of him, ripping the shirt off of Hux’s body. His eyes fall to the wound, but Hux pulls him into another kiss before Ben could ask questions. Their bodies collide, pressing into one another as though to fuse. Both of them with eager hands, searching every inch, finding every scar. Wanting to know each other in the most profound of ways.

It’s easy for Hux to unbutton Ben’s pants, and to breathe in Ben’s moan as he shimmies them off. Ben takes his sweet time removing Hux’s sweat pants. He’s slow so he may take in the sensation of all the definition of Hux’s legs. The inside of his thighs, the crook behind his knees, the ridges of his shins after countless conditioning. He wants to the know the braille of his being. Hux gasps in his touch, moaning between his occupied lips. His arms tense around Ben’s torso begging him to lower himself. 

They discover that the two of them fit perfectly together without any clothes. Their bodies practically built for one another’s embrace. Ben slips his hands between their stomachs, dragging it down Hux’s skin, until grabbing hold of him and stroking him with leisure movements to drive the man insane with desire. Hux knows Ben is as hard as he is right now, however Ben is waiting. Ben is waiting until Hux completely surrenders and wants Ben more than he’d want air while trapped under ice. He’s getting close, he can tell by how Hux is lightly thrusting into his hand and saying prayers against his lips. 

Ben searches about the edge of the bed, finding a lubricant. The few encounters he had like this, he’d never want to look the other man in the face. He’d spin them around and fuck them until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. But not with Hux. He craves for Hux’s eyes to be on him. The sight of Hux withering beneath him with each thrust. Biting at his bottom lip as Ben runs his hands down his chest.

“Please, Ben.” He shivers out. 

He slips a finger in, keeping memory of how Hux trembles. He kisses Hux’s neck, feeling his pulse speed as another finger is added, and another. Ben enters him gently, both exhaling their ecstasy, trapping each other in one another’s embrace. Ben starts slow but quickly picks up. He lifts himself from Hux’s body, taking Hux’ hips with him. He watches Hux gasp as Ben streams his fingers through his hair, running a hand down his face, tracing his lips with his thumb. He grips Hux’s neck, wanting to make sure this was real by the beat of his pulse. This is not some wild dream, he’s truly here and accepting Ben entirely. All Ben could really think about is how lucky he was. How impossible it seemed for him to ever be on top, inside, of someone so beautiful. He lowers himself enough to place his lips on Hux’s neck, a gentle contrast to the feverous pounding. Hux arches his back, snatching the back of Ben’s head as Ben’s lips trails up his jaw, across Hux’s cheek, and finally locking with Hux’s lips. 

They are in the void. The world, the universe, all swallowed by their passion. Ben and Hux, lost in each other, exactly how they want it to be. And when they part their lips from one another, Ben rests his forehead against Hux’s, sharp grunts leaving his mouth. Hux couldn’t hold back any more, no matter how badly he wanted this moment to last. And it seemed Ben couldn’t either. Hux came first and Ben took that as permission to cum as well.

Their eyes open and they find each other as the universe falls back into place. 

 

*****

 

Hux has his arms flung over Ben’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. Ben has his nose buried in the mess of red hair, sliding fingers along Hux’s side. As the sun sets, sleep is creeping up on them when Hux has to ask: 

“How do you feel about Arizona?”

 

*****

 

A few years has past. Hux is in his casual wear, wanting to be comfortable on his trip alone to Los Angeles. He meets Poe at a small café near the hospital he had stayed in. The charming man is smiling, blushing as he tries to find a proper thank you for the Mercedes Benz. 

“I was kidding about the car, you know. My wife immediately thought that I actually was having an affair with you.” Poe keeps his smile close to the rim of his coffee as he listens to Hux’s guffaw. 

“Well, I thought we were.” Hux chuckles, looking down at foam art in his cup. 

“Don’t say it out loud!” He lets himself laugh with hux. 

“You and her need to come to Tucson more often. You two are sorely missed.” He smiles, drinking up the foam first. 

“We call your ranch our vacation spot.” He laughs, love in his eyes as he thinks of his wife. “Hey, do you want to go down to Rebellion Records with me, after this? That damn Finn has a jacket I need back.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I want to visit Snoke’s gym. Phasma is waiting there to kick my ass, apparently. She says a few times each year isn’t enough for her.” He rolls his eyes with a grin. 

“Oh man, how could you refuse that offer.” 

 

*****

 

She didn’t lose. Oh no, did she not lose. Last time she had and Hux knows since then she’s been going over time to make sure she’d never lose again. At least now they could hug each other after their fights and sit for awhile as their recall their time spent together. She pats his back before leaving him at the gym, telling him that she looks forward to beating the shit out of him, another time.

Alone, after hours, he figures he might as well give the punching bag a go. He smiles as he does pull ups on the same, old, rusty pull up bar. Nothing had changed here, except for him. He’s jumping rope when he hears the sound of the gym doors opening. A man in a fitted suit enters, hair trimmed and stylish, with a carry-on he dropped by the door. He smirks as Hux tosses his jump rope. 

“You look like a douche.” He bites his lip to keep from chuckling. 

“It was a douche that got me this stupid job that won’t allow me to wear my usual attire.” The man climbs into the ring. Hux leaps over the ropes. 

“I think you should just take it off.” He tugs at the jacket. 

“It’s been a while since we were in this ring together.” 

“I know it has, Ben.” He sinks his lips into his neck. Pleased that the delay in Ben’s flight didn’t last a day.

“But, I think if we sparred right now, you’d lose.” He whispers into Hux’s ear. 

Hux slips his hand into Ben’s, feeling the warmth of the gold wedding band he’d place on Ben’s finger almost two years ago. 

“I think I’d be victorious no matter the outcome.”


End file.
